


Babylon

by ruric



Category: Alexander (2004)
Genre: Community: slashfest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-16
Updated: 2005-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruric/pseuds/ruric
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>One day, or brief time of happiness, does not make a person entirely happy.</i> ~ Aristotle, Niomachean Ethics</p>
            </blockquote>





	Babylon

Even now, hours later, the cheering of the crowd rings loud in his ears and if he closes his eyes he can see again their triumphal entry into the city.

_Alexander, sitting astride Bucephalus, the rich gold and blue cape falling from his shoulders to spill across the sleekly muscled rump of the horse. Every bouncing step the great horse takes causing sunlight to reflect from the golden weave, until Hephaistion’s eyes are watering when he squints into the brightness, looking past Alexander to scan the faces of the people crowding their route._

_The cacophony of sound arises from a thousand, ten thousand..a hundred thousand throats, thundering around them, breaking and receding, like the waves on a shore. Screams and cheers, chanting and ululations, the people of Babylon welcoming not their conqueror but a new king._

_Alexander riding in the midst of them, surrounded yet always alone, and so very exposed. One archer hidden in any of the shadowed embrasures or on the balcony of one of the buildings they pass and the dream would die, here on the streets of the richest city they have taken. But Alexander sits tall, unworried, his arm held aloft, a hand extended in friendship to a people who are more than half his already._

_Hephaistion’s not sure he believes in Alexander’s dream, but he believes in the man who calls him friend yet makes so much more of the word with every gesture and look. And he knows he’ll believe in Alexander for as long as either of them draws breath._

_Petals rain down on them, soft and beautiful as pale pink snowflakes, to tangle in their hair and in their horses manes and lodge in their clothing, filling the air with a delicate, sweet scent. Alexander shining brightly - crowned with the gold wreath of the victor that Ptolemy had placed on his brow - hair bleached white blond by months spent under the sun, makes even the gold appear tarnished and dirty._

_Alexander, burning fiercely enough to diminish even the sacred glory of Apollo._

_Sometimes Hephaistion wonders how much further the Gods will let him rise before they strike him back down to the ground. A shiver runs across his skin, the kiss of a cool wind, bitter breath from Hades, and he prays to Ares that he never has to witness Alexander’s fall._

Hephaistion blinks and the memories of the morning fade, to be replaced by the reality of the night.

The generals and the council are taking their sport in Darius’ harem, surrounded by dark-eyed, black haired Persians, who dance and sing and seem not to mourn the loss of their former king at all.

Cleitus his arms circling the waists of two beautiful women who take it in turns to press food and drink to his lips, between breathily exchanged kisses; old Parmenion lying on a divan, finding it difficult to keep his hands off the skin of the several pretty boys who are waiting on him. General Crateros, surrounded by flushed young men, his battlefield commanders, all talking at once, toast after toast made and wine consumed, spinning tales of heroics to impress the wide-eyed women gathered around them. Cassander whispering softly to Perdiccas and Leonnatus; Ptolemy, wine abandoned, head bowed close to the Persian prince, engaged in fierce debate, his hands chopping through the air to emphasize whatever point he’s trying to make.

Hephaistion's gaze as always, finds Alexander, sprawled in a nest of cushions scattered over the marbled floor, his head pillowed in the lap of a dusky skinned, doe-eyed boy. Alexander’s head turns, his cheek resting on a silk clad thigh, and Hephaistion is rising to his feet, recognizing the look in Alexander’s narrowed eyes, the challenge in the slight lift of the chin and the lazy smile…never a command, always a request, even when the words are not spoken aloud.

Alexander’s gaze flicks to the boy standing by Hephaistion and his smile widens, becomes a little more predatory, his chin lifting higher to give a slight nod in the direction of his rooms. Even after so many years Hephaistion feels a blush staining his cheeks, fingers closing around the wrist of the nameless boy, pulling the ewer from his fingers to set it on a low table. Dark, painted eyes meet his in a glance that holds knowledge as it moves from him to Alexander.

The boys fingers twine with his, sleek dark hair flicked over his shoulder when he looks back, sibilant string of sing-songed Persian falling from his lips as they pass Parmenion and his attendants. Good natured jeers and drunken catcalls follow them from the room. Hephaistion barely notices the splendor of the palace around him as they make their way through too many corridors, stopping only once when he thinks he’s lost muttering ad cursing Darius’ name. The flash of white teeth in the lamplight show understanding and a tug on his fingers guide him to the sanctuary of Alexander’s rooms.

The boy’s hand slides beneath Hephaistion's hair, lips pressed to his in a gentle kiss, a lithe body swaying into him, his own fingers digging into silk clad hips as they rock together. Weeks since the battle, weeks since his body has experienced anything more than a lingering touch and it’s so very easy to lose himself in the press of skin on skin.

Leaning back from the kiss only when he hears the rustle of material and a few whispered words, he looks across the room to see Alexander. His skin turned burnished gold by the flicking light, tunic in a white pool around his feet, the doe-eyed boy from the harem pressing kisses into Alexander's neck and shoulder, their fingers pulling at the silken material tied around his waist.

Hephaistion barely feels nimble fingers loosening the pins from his tunic, his gaze fixed on the slide of silk over a muscled thigh, Alexander’s hands spread over the boy’s skin as he lifts him, tumbles them both onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. He doesn’t even realize he’s staring until he hears a soft huff of laughter, until his gaze rises to see the wide smile which still can make his heart stutter.

"Are you joining us, or just watching?"

Skin burning, licked kisses pressed from his mouth to his ear and he lets the boy lead him to the bed, until he twists agile as a cat against Hephaistion’s body. His arms circle Hephaistion’s shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling them off balance, to fall to the rich covers on bed.

Hephaistion loses himself in the pleasure of tawny skin, in lingering kisses tasting of sweet dates and wine, in soft sighs and whispered words he doesn’t really need to understand. His fingers sliding into hair as dark as night and as long as any woman’s, hair which is curled and oiled and wraps around his fingers like the snakes Olympias kept in the basket in her rooms.

Hungry for this, for the salty sweet taste of skin under his mouth and tongue, the shift and ripple of muscle under his fingers, the hiss of breath as his nails graze over skin. His knees press into the silken bedcovers, the boy’s thighs tightening around his hips as he rocks into the clenching heat of a willing body. The skin beneath his hands is soft and unmarked, so unlike his own, which bears the scars of years spent training and many battles fought.

A keening cry turns his head, the boy astride Alexander shivering and folding down in a loose-limbed roll. His hair spreads across his back like a silky black cape and Alexander’s hands soothe down his spine, slow gentle stokes to calm, his voice a low whisper.

Fingers tighten in Hephaistion’s hair, pulling his head down, and the brown, painted eyes looking up at him are too knowing, the gaze that meets his unfathomably deep but rich with understanding. The boy twists beneath him, hips rocking up, words breathed into his skin urging him on and Hephaistion is riding the wave of desire, pulled down into a kiss that is sweet and hungry. Too long with no-one to touch, his hips slam down, the boy's nails grazing his shoulders body convulsing around Hephaistion as he spills the heat he’s been holding back for so many days. He rides out the shivers and the thundering of his heart, to slide free and roll to his back on the bed bedside Alexander.

The calloused thumb that brushes his cheek, pushing sweat dampened hair back from his face is the touch he’s longed for, ached for, since the battle at Gaugamela and the ride to Babylon. Blinking heavy lidded eyes he looks up into Alexander’s face, into eyes that still burn. Aristotle taught them to control their passions, a lesson Alexander perhaps learned too well, because he will hold back until the fire threatens to destroy everything in its path.

"Leave us, now."

Unmistakeably an order and not a request, the bed shifts as the boys move, but there will be tomorrow to find them and offer a gift. For tonight there is the drowning hunger in Alexander’s eyes and the heat of his body. And that is more than enough.

~ fin ~  


**Author's Note:**

> Written for [slashfest](http://lakenaiad.livejournal.com>lakenaiad</a>%20via%20the%20<a%20href=) LJ community. The request was for Alexander/Hephaistion/random harem boys - post the conquest of Babylon, because you know the novelty would be too difficult to resist.


End file.
